He hadn’t. But the ringtone had. Every phone that ever played that tune in this city, every guitar that ever mimicked it in a lonely room—it was never just a song. It was a summoning. And now, the Hasina (the beautiful woman) from the song wasn't a character in a film. She was the silence between the notes.

Rohan froze. The guitar string he had just tightened snapped with a gunshot twang, slicing his fingertip. A drop of blood fell on the sound hole.

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